


The Crossed Paths of Snakes and Lions

by ArtyFoxyWithAPen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Evil Albus Dumbledore, Gen, Good Dudley Dursley, Good Petunia Evans Dursley, Good Severus Snape, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Mentor Severus Snape, Sane Tom Riddle, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Somewhat Good Voldemort (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtyFoxyWithAPen/pseuds/ArtyFoxyWithAPen
Summary: Taking place right after Harry's eventful fourth Year, The Boy Who Lived finds himself under the care of Severus Snape. What starts off as a contentious relationship, built upon things in the past, soon turns into Harry finding a parent in the least likely of individuals. Complicating matters is the returning sanity of the Dark Lord, bringing with hidden truths that were crafted to reach a horrible eventuality for Harry Potter. With the lines between the Light and Dark, Harry will have to navigate this new Status Quo if he wishes to come out on the other side happy and with a new family by his side.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 30
Kudos: 221





	1. A Snakes visits the Lions Den

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Fate of Snakes and Lions](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/666352) by ArcticFoXScribe. 



> So, this is actually a remake of a story I wrote in 2017 on FanFiction.net under the name ArcticFoxScribe. I had gotten caught up in a lot of things at the time and never bothered to continue it. I have decided to bring it back over here. This site not only offers me more freedom, but I think it can find a better audience here. The plot itself has changed since 2017 and I do hope it does the orginal justice while also taking it to a new place.

\--------------------------- End of Fourth Term------------------

Harry felt the train ride end far too suddenly. Hadn’t he just boarded not more than a few moments ago? Then again, time had felt funny ever since that night in the graveyard. Ever since-

“Not now”, came a hush muttered, teeth biting into the bottom of his lips to help push away a far more painful memory. He didn’t need that, not when he would have to contend with the Dursely’s for the summer. There was no sense in dwelling on those memories when there were new, more painful ones to add to it with his relatives.

As the Hogwarts Express came to a full stop, billowing smoke pouring from its stacks, Harry mused about just staying on board. Perhaps no one would notice if he just didn’t get off. Both Hermoine and Ron had left a day before everyone else. Mrs. Weasley wanted to have all of her sons at home after hearing what happened with Cedric, upset that she couldn’t have Harry with her. Hermoine on the other hand wanted to see her parents. The full weight of just how dangerous the Wizarding World had taken its toll on her after seeing the Hufflepuffs lifeless body in Harry’s arm. No, there wasn’t a soul on board that would know he hadn’t disembarked from the train.

“Anything from the trolley before you leave dear”

Harry couldn’t help but give a baleful smirk as the Trolley Witch came and upended his plans with her generosity. It seemed, thought Harry as he gave the witch a small nod, refusing a few treats, fate had other plans for his summer. Knowing he had no choice, the boy made way for the exit, and back into the cold hands of a Hogwarts Less summer.

It was as he passed into Kings Cross proper, his trunks and Hedwig balanced upon a cart, that Harry felt a pit form in his stomach. There, in the car, was his Uncle Vernon. That wasn’t a shock, he was the only one in the family he ever drove. No, the biggest shock was the lack of his cousin and Aunt. Without fail, for the past four years, they all arrived to pick him up. He never understood why, but they always did that together. Now, seeing Vernon there, eyes glowing red in a palpable hatred, Harry knew something had gone wrong. 

Without a second thought, Harry unlatched the door to Hedwig's cage,

“Okay girl, listen to me. Fly to The Borrow. Don’t stop and don’t come back for me”

The smart Barn Owl hooted in response, giving her Master a nip on the ear before she took flight, soaring into the smog-filled air of London, just as Vernon trudged his way over towards his nephew.

“Decided let your little street rat with wings back out into the wild, did ya” he smeared, washing Harry’s nose in a haze of strong liquor. 

“She isn’t a street ra-” the punch was unexpected, a swift strike coming from Vernon that landed with a thud against his lip, sending the boy sprawling to the ground

“I didn’t ask you to speak, boy!’ Vernon yelled, viciously yanking Harry from the ground, not a single regard for the numerous eyes that were watching him, “I sure as hell didn’t ask for you to smark off. Now, get your freakish butt in that car, we have some new rules to go over”

Vernon left, his steps thudding with power as a panic-stricken Harry could only stare ahead. It took a moment before he came to, looking around at onlookers he gave nothing more than a glance before speeding about their way. No one came to help. No one asked if he was okay. No one cared. Harry felt like he was back in that graveyard after Cedric died. Surrounded by those who wouldn’t lift a finger to help.

The car ride hadn’t been silent. Harry missed the jabs in the ribs from his cousin, or the side glances from his Aunt. Above all, he missed being ignored by his Uncle. Instead, as they drove from Kings Cross to Privet Drive, Harry was assaulted by Vernon’s words as he drove erratically towards the house. 

Despite his best efforts, Harry didn’t tune all of it out. Between the swears and the threats of violence, Vernon let slip why it was only him coming to pick up Harry,

“She fuckin left because of you Freak” the word was laced with so much venom Harry felt as if he was being bitten by the Basilisk all over again, “Cause she said she ‘Didn’t want to hurt her sister’s memory’”

The car swerved sharply left onto the off-ramp, bringing with it a squeal of brakes, honking horns and angry shouts from the other driver,

“Said she’d been seeing her waif of a sister in her dreams, which I know is all your fault”

“My Mother is not a waif” Harry felt his ire speak before his brain could even keep him in check. The brakes were slammed, Vernon reaching towards the back to grab a handful of Harry’s shirt

“Your Mother was a freakish slut, who gave birth to an even more freakish son. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to beat it all out of you. Enough that your Mother will feel the pain of taking my Tuney away from me”

As Vernon turned to face the road once more, Harry felt the feeling return. That feeling of sickness, of bile rising from within. That smile just now, that smirk of vengeful intent that had been spread across the portly red face of his Uncle. It was a smile of a man with nothing to lose, and ideas and dreams of causing as much pain as possible. The car ride back to Privet Drive became painfully shorter by the second, contrasted by the expanding fear within Harry.

The human body could only take so much abuse. Be it Muggle or Wizard, the anatomy of a human was built to only withstand so much damage before it became useless. Harry had been on the cusp of this and it had only been a day.

The first day back in Privet Drive was spent with Vernon instilling the new power structure in the home. Of course, before they had left, Vernon had always been the head of the house. Yet, with no Petunia warning him against being too harsh with Harry, or Dudley trying to convince him to let Harry have a small snack, Vernon was free to let hell rain down on his nephew.

They had barely made it through the front door before Vernon began to lay into the boy. His eyes were alight with a sadistic joy as he gripped a handful of those black strands of hair and bodily tossed Harry to the ground. Before he could even gasp in pain, Vernon was straddling the young man, his meaty fits striking the frail body of his nephew. Vernon felt all of his pent up anger from his family leaving him exploded forth with every strike. As his knuckles collided over and over into Harry’s frame, Vernon quickly became drunk on the sensation. He was toppling this Freak, making him cry out and beg for mercy. He would teach him to make his Tuney leave him. Oh, he would teach him.

By the time Vernon was done on that first day, there wasn’t much that was recognizable about Harry. His face was swollen, his right eyes all but blinded by the pulsating purple bruise. His mouth and nose were drenched in his own blood, and there was no mistake in the sound of the possibly collapsed lung as he wheezed for breath. Vernon had done in hours what many Death Eaters could only dream of, brutalizing the Boy Who Lived. 

The portly man merely watched as his nephew fought for any morsel of oxygen, a gift in Vernon’s mind, that could filter into his broken nose. They were both in the cupboard under the stairs. Rather, Harry was in there, tossed inside without a care. Vernon merely watched as the boy pitifully curled in on himself, shaking from the severity of the beating.

“I hope you know that you have a long way before I make you pay boy. From now until those Freaks come calling for you in August, I will make you pay. Who knows, perhaps I’ll beat so much of the Freak out of you that your own kind won’t even take you back”

As Vernon shut the door, and Harry felt the cold grasp of unconsciousness take hold, he wished that he was still in that GraveYard. At least back then there was the promise of death.  
\----------------------- Two Weeks Later--------

Prince Manor was, by many Wizard metrics, a respectable home. It wasn’t too gaudy but still exudes class and status. From the wrought iron fence that bared all from entry to the sprawling grounds that were host to many a plant for potion making, the Manor was able to fit right in with most Upper Crust Wizarding society. It was for this reason that Severus Snape hated having to come here.

By Wizarding Law, Snape was obligated to come to the Estate at least once a year to ensure that the wards would stay in place and the home would remain in his family’s name. It was a chore that he dreads more than any of Longbottoms' failures in potion-making. For one, the home, well rather affluent, never suited the taste of Snape. It wasn’t the gaudy nature of it all, though it was rather tame when stacked up against the Malfoy Manor. It wasn’t even the association that it held with his parents. No, it was just the sheer emptiness. 

Even now, as he strode along the outside walls, muttering every few seconds to strengthen the wards, he could feel the hollow steps of the void close behind. This place hadn’t seen guests in ages, nor had a member of the Prince family slept in any of the many bedrooms in just as long. A fond smile broke through his prickly exterior, if only for a moment. His mother would often regale him of tales of balls that the Manor hosted, well before she was ousted for marrying a Muggle. They were the only few moments of comment when he lived at Spinner's End.

His checks took him around the grounds, making note that whatever House Elf that still cared for the Estate was doing as best as they could. Visually it looked fine, but the keen eyes of Severus spotted several things that were in need of tending to. Still, he wasn’t here to appraise the place, just make sure it still was in his family's name. His almost natural scowl returned to his face, set about completing this mind-numbing task as quickly as possible. Though he mused for a moment as he took an abrupt turn to head into the home, perhaps there would be some of the old Family Label wine still in the cellar. It would be the only bright spot to return to this place.

It had taken another hour to fully finish the checks, by that time Snape was ready to burn the place down. Every year he seemed to forget just how winding the dungeons and secret paths could be. Still, the bevy of dusty bottles that hovered beside him would make for an apt reward for finishing such a task. With one final look at the gates, resisting the childish urge to give the imposing emerald “Prince Manor” charmed onto the front gates, Snape give his cloak a tug and apparated away.

With a crack, he arrived at his personal home, something far more modest and suited for the life of a single Potion Maker. Casting his cloak away to the rack in the corner, Snape navigated the somewhat tidy front room. He wasn’t one to obsess over cleaning unless it came to his potion room and cauldrons, but the man wasn’t a slob either. Everything had its place, and as long as it didn’t take him seconds to find something, it was suited to his taste. After all, this was his home, he was free to decompress.

The one-bedroom home was just right for him. Snape had snagged it the moment he laid eyes on the basement. The lower floor made the best Potions Lab, and as he strode into it at that moment, he still was grateful he had bought it on an impulse. The smokey grey stone, lit by flickering torches gave just enough warming light to see by. The table that served as his center was charmed to illuminate when needed, as many of the ingredients that lined the multitude of shelves around the area were photosensitive. While it might have merely added to his visage as a “Dungeon Bat” it was far better than having an errant tuff of Unicorn Dung ignite in a sealed glass. 

A quick check on his brewing blood stopping potion, the color nearly reaching the proper crimson hue, wasn’t the only reason Snape headed right for his sanctum of brewing and peace. Just beyond the wall sat his personal wine cellar, charmed to maintain the right humidity to keep the spirits fresh. The family labels were swiftly sorted, with only one remaining behind. As he hefted the bottle in his hand, admiring the almost two-hundred-year-old bottle, Snape felt a rush of addictive pleasure strike his veins. This was the moment he lived for. The moment before he could drink and let whatever weapon of choice he had melted away his thoughts. Hopefully, he would be able to call it a night before the bottle was empty. Chances were riding slim.

With a small spring to his step, Snape had all but made it up to his landing when the fire of his hearth roared to life, casting a sickly green glow around the room.

“Severus! Please, don’t turn me away”

His ire at being denied his drink wore heavily on his face as he swung around to face the floating head of his late evening caller. The fire outlined the angular juts of his face and nose, adding even more menace to his withering glare.

“Arabella Figg. To what do I owe this...unwelcome correspondence”

“It’s Harry, I think he may be in danger”

Potter. It always had to be Harry James Potter. Even during the Summer the boy and his sheer existence seemed to cloud his life. 

“I assure you, Arabella if Potter were in any sort of danger it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. Even then, there is only so much trouble one could get into in Little Surrey”

“But Potter would find a way” he internal mused, while still keeping his eyes locked onto the cat breeder in his fire-place

“You don’t understand, this is different. I think he may be in actual danger. It’s his Uncle. I knew he was the bad sort of Muggle, I have been telling Dumbledore for years how they treat Harry. Oh Severus, if you have seen or heard what I have. What they have done to poor Har-”

“Enough of your fawning of Potter” the interruption was harsh, spiteful, “Whatever happened to him, he probably earned it. A spoiled whelp deserves punishment every now and again”

“No one earns being beaten by their own family Severus”

“...explain”

The sigh from Miss. Figg was heavy, filled with exhaustion, but perhaps a tinge of relief

“I’ve been sending missives to Dumbledore for years about them. About how they ‘care’ for Harry. His aunt and cousin are, at their worst, neglectful and bliggerant. But Vernon. Oh, that man makes my skin crawl”

“The point Arabella” his temper was rising as quickly as his draining patience, though he was filing away every word the Squib spoke. Even if nothing serious came from it, the fact that she connected him as opposed to any other Order Member was enough to give pause.

“Vernon has been beating the boy for years. I used to hear Harry cry out, beg for mercy. Every year, even after he went to Hogwarts. But Severus, I haven’t heard a peep from the home. His wife and son left him and...I fear that he may be taking it out on Harry”

“Without proof, you are merely wasting my time on speculations. It is bad enough that I have to deal with Potters delusions of superiority during the school year, but I refuse to have my peace shattered by him during the summer”

Arabella, her eyes looking tired and almost listless, even in the magical fire, gave up what little light they had in hope of the Potions Master,

“Even if I am wrong, just do this one thing for me. I...I can’t trust anyone else. The other Order members would just report it to Dumbledore and take his word. I know you won’t. That’s all I’m asking. Just...just check. For Lily’s sake at least”

The fire snuffed itself out as Figg left Snape on her last words, the man still looking into the slowly dying embers,

“For Lily’s sake” the word tumbled around in his mind, thoughts of a future born from past memories playing out in his head. Thoughts of Lily, his Lily.

“For your sake” he looked up at the mantle, eyeing a stationary photograph of himself and two other women, one redhead, the other silver. 

Tossing aside the bottle, Snape turned on his heel and apparated away to Number 4 Privet Drive.  
\------------------

A storm was brewing overhead, low clouds sparking with arcs of lighting flying between them. The warm pre-storm summer air greeted Severus as he stood just beyond the edge of Privet Drive. There, only a few yards away, was the home of Harry James Potter.

He had never personally visited the place. Not only due to his reluctance to involve himself with any matters that concerned Potter, but also due to his history with Petunia Evans. Well, Dursley now. Even before he lost Lily’s friendship the first time, the two of them never connected at all. Yet, here he was, about to intrude upon her home at the behest of the Order’s most useless member. 

Striding in silence, his boots charmed to ensure an utterly silent approach, Snape eyed the home with caution. It was...well ordinary and painfully so. It would have blended in with everything else in the smaller area had it not been for the garden. Filled with weeds and dying flowers, it was the first real sign that Petunia wasn’t home. As a child, the girl was enamored with gardens and there was no way she’d ever leave hers in this state. 

As he closed the distance between himself and the door, Snape mused his approach. Knocking would probably go sorely south. He was only checking in on Potter and there was no need for Dursely to even know he was there. If things were going to go his way, he would get to enjoy admonishing Figg for wasting his time and ruining his plans to ply himself with alcohol. 

With a wandless ‘Alohomora’, the door creaked open bringing with it a burst of air so foul Snape was glad years of potion-making left him able to handle such odors. The melange of rotten food and human waste was potent, aided by the pitch darkness of the home. 

Stepping inside, his boots repelled numerous take-away containers and cans of cheap beer soundlessly. The floors were covered in the trash, tossed haphazardly around. There was no way in hell that this could have been the right house. Petunia Evans would have a fit and he didn’t need to have kept up with her to know this. As he strode through the home his disbelief struck hard. There was no way that this was the home of Potter.

IN the darkness he could just make out the sounds of heavy snoring from somewhere on the bottom floor, most likely the Dursley patriarch. Snape didn’t need to see the man to know those were the sounds of a man who was grossly overweight. Just below that he could faintly pick up the sounds of...something. It was hard to tell, but it was coming from above. The sound was raspy, rough around the edges, like broken glass. The rattle that came after every sound hit Snape with a sense of dread. While he hoped for the best, his years of experience knew that the worse was coming.

He quickly bounded up the steps, finding the source of the sound from behind a locked door. Chains and bolts gave the impression that a dangerous beast was lurking inside,

“Or a more dangerous one was holding someone prisoner” the grim thought entered into his mind. 

It took hearing that rasp turn into a struggling gasp of air for Snape to blast the door off its hinges, not giving a damn about casting aside his stealthy approach. As the wooden frame clattered alongside the iron locks and chains, fear struck him in a way that hadn’t in fourteen years.

Clothing. Tattered.

Face. Unrecognizable.

Body. Frail. Gaunt. Broken.

Were it not for the pained breaths being forcibly taken, he wouldn’t have called Potter alive. His arm looked to be broken, painfully contorted to one side. The man could count the ribs of the boy, outlined by pasty skin that was devoid of any life. He could see the cuts and gashes that marred the boys back, all of it barely hidden by the same shirt he recalled Potter wearing after leaving Hogwarts. Above all, it was seeing those eyes. Seeing Lily’s eyes, bloodshot, and looking upwards at him that broke the Potions Master. He was upon Harry in a flash, gingerly picking up the mutilated boy in his arms. It was then that the cold barrel of a gun pressed between his shoulder blades.

“Put that boy down, else I’ll fill you with more holes than your freakish magic can patch” the voice was slurred, drowned out by the scent of stale beer that spoke well before the man did. 

Rage was a thing that one didn’t associate with Severus. Angry, sure. Violent, at times. Rageful, never. He spent years as a spy and learned to mask his emotions. This, however, wasn’t a time he could do such a thing. His rage took hold of his magic, the air becoming thick with his malice. It was dripping off the walls, the lights flickering despite the lack of power in the home. 

“How dare you”, the roar shattered windows, “How dare you order me around, you filth”, from outside, Vernon’s car alarm was blaring.

Before the sluggish brain impulse to pull the trigger on his shotgun was fired, Snape struck first. A pulse of magic sent the rotund man barreling out of the room, crashing bodily into the wall. As pain raced across his frame, he looked up and began to whimper. The visage of Snape, his scowl turned into a sadistic grin seared itself into his eyes,

“I’d pray if I were you Dursely. Pray that you can outrun me. Pray, that I will offer you the quick respite that the Dark Lord gives those who don’t comply with him. Above all, pray that you will die before I have had my way with you”

With a crack, Snape vanished, the windows of Number 4 Privet Drive shattering into dust as Vernon sat there, stewing in his own bodily waste, his eyes unable to look away from the room once occupied by his nephew. Unable to look away from the spot where that dark-haired man had signed his death letter.

There was only one Healer that Severus trusted beyond Madame Pomfrey. Only one Healer that would do anything, no questions ask for him. There was only one Healer that he trusted with the task of trying to save Lilly Evans' son from the brink of death. As he arrived at the entrance of Malfoy Manor, he prayed that she was home.

The wards warmed at his arrival as he sped through the grandiose entryway, not sparing a thought for the House Elf that came to greet him. Blood followed behind his every step as he made way for the study, a place he knew Narcissa would be at this time of night. Every rushing step he felt the boy in his arms shudder, his face somehow getting paler by the moment. 

“Cissa!,” he cried out, crashing into the study room without care for whomever else was present.''Help `` he cried were greeted by two pairs of eyes, both of them looking from the panicked stricken Snape to the bleeding buddle of flesh and bones in his arms.

“Give him to me” Narcissa stood up with all the grace the Malfoy name bestowed upon her, taking a few strides towards Snape with her wand gripped within her hands. Levitating the broken boy from the Potions Master, Narcissa vanished without a sound, leaving Severus and Lucius in the thickest of silences.

“I think...you should explain yourself” as Malfoy spoke, his wand flicked outwards, summoning an extra chair and two tumblers filled with Fire Whiskey, “And I think you should do so quickly”

\------------------------------------------------ 

Healing was delicate work. While Aurors and Dragon Tamers often were seen as the most dangerous and risky jobs, Healers often begged to disagree. Sure, tackling Dark Wizards and fire-breathing creatures seemed dangerous, but compared to dealing with various ailments and life-threatening illnesses, those jobs were child's play. Since her first year, Narcissa longed to be a Healer and in that time she had seen a lot. Yet, as she looked down at her latest recovering patient, she was humbled by the depths of things she had yet to truly witness.

It had taken four hours to even stabilize Harry. Blood replenishing potions only did so much, requiring the wounded persons' magical core to help in blood replication. Yet, with a core that had been tapped dry just in keeping Harry alive, it was working with nothing. Between that, the broken bones in his arms and the heavily damaged and infected lung, Narcissa was shocked that she got Potter even this close to stable. 

She had to resort to non-magical means to tackle his blood loss, a Muggle IV drip giving him a replenishing supply of A- blood. The lung had been a different story. So much of it had been damaged and heavily bruised. Were it not for the boy's sturdy magical core, there wouldn’t have been a chance that he would’ve lasted as long as he did. The charms and potions did the best they could, replicating and healing as much dead tissue as it could. His arm though, that took the most amount of work.

Skell-Grow could only do so much, and with his arm broken in several places, it was easier just to vanish the broken bones. It would take a while before they could be truly healed, but there was no doubt that Harry’s arm would truly work the same again. Even the best Healers couldn’t fix lasting nerve damage. She’d only know just how much damage had been done when he was awake.

After applying the last bit of healing slave to his back, the scars and gashes slowly fading away, Narcissa left her private chambers, leaving Harry under the watchful eyes of her wards and her attentive House Elf. She opted to walk back to the Study, giving her time to compose herself, to try and figure out just what to ask Severus first. As all the questions ran amok in her mind, they promptly tumbled out as she entered into the Study, finding a sullen Lucious and an anxious Severus both nursing glasses of fire whiskey. Wordlessly, she summoned her own glass and poured from the nearly empty bottle, letting the burn settle her rattled emotions.

“Is- is he stable” shockingly Lucius spoke up first, giving his wife a concerning once over

“He is...alive. Stable, well it depends on his state of mind. I-I’ve never seen such damage done to a person outside of Azkaban. Even then, at least the pain is ended swiftly by a Dementors Kiss”

Both men sat in silence, letting those words weigh in on them. With one of them having spent actual time behind those walls, to hear Narcissa say such things painted the grim tale before them all.

“That damn Muggle. He did this” the muttering was dangerously low, a speech only for the still reeling Snape to hear, though the other two could hear it all the same, “I’ll rend his flesh from his bones”

“As much as he has it coming” Lucious made way for his friend, clasping the cloaked shoulder, “You need to rest. I’ll explain everything to Narcissa, just get some sleep, old friend. We have a lot to figure out in the morning”

If Snape actually listened, he didn’t show it. Instead, he continued his muttering of the things he was going to do to Vernon as he took his leave, shutting the Study door with a soft click. As the two Malfoy’s listened to his retreating footsteps fade away, they both heaved a sigh.

“Between this and the return of the Dark Lord, I’d wage Mister Potter has to be unlucky to an unnatural degree”

“Oh, Lucius, his body. That monster,” Narcissa sought comfort in the arms of her husband, letting her composure drop for a moment, “The things he did to that boy. No one should have had to endure that”

Lucius let his wife curl into the crook of his arm, his sleeves ruffling upwards to reveal the Dark Mark, the dark brand thankfully inactive as it had been since Voldemort's return. It was rare to see her break the mask of confidence and poise that she often worse and Lucius was thankful that he could be here for her at such a time.

“Severus told me. He doesn’t know what all happened, but he told me about the state he found Mister Potter in. He found him locked up like some feral animal”

Narcissa sniffed for a moment, pulling herself from her husband to center herself once more

“Oh, Lily would be turning over in her grave if she knew what he did to her son. What are we going to do to Lucius? We can’t let him go back. Should we contact the Order? Dumbledore”

The one time Death Eater, now light side spy, turned the questions over in his head. There wasn't a real answer he could give, not that his wife truly expected one. There weren’t many Order Members that cared for him, let alone listen to him. Combine that with his tepid trust of Dumbledore and there weren’t many options that were open to him. Severus on the other hand.

“We should discuss this with Severus in the morning when we have all had time to rest and process this. Hopefully, we can find a solution that doesn’t bring Dumbledore into the mix, though I fear that may be the case”

His distrust of one of the most powerful Wizards in London was clear. Even if the older wizard had granted him a second chance at life in exchange for spying alongside Severus, that man plotted way too much to be trusted. Combine that with the fact he had, seemingly, been ignoring Arabella’s warning about Potter’s home life for years, there was something he didn’t care for underneath that constant twinkle.

“You’re right. Harry will probably be out for the next day or two. His magical core was down to its last few sparks. It will give us time to formulate a plan of action”

His wife, clearly thinking steps in advance, gingerly stood, reaching out to her husband to steady herself. Fatigue hit her heavily, and the sheer emotional drain on her left the Witch feeling listless. As Lucious took her arm and helped her towards their room, she was hoping that whatever choice they came to it was in Harry’s best interest.


	2. An Anxious Lion and an Apologetic Snake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Arty here with another chapter. I honestly didn't think this story would catch the eyes that it did. While it isn't an overwhelming amount of people, I am thankful for every one of you that bookmarked, left Kudos and even commented. It gave me the drive to finish working on this chapter. While a lot of it is just allowing for an emotional peak to be hit so two characters can start on their journey together, I am also sowing the seeds for a lot of things to come in the future. I have an entire thing planned out and I really do hope you all enjoy the ride. There will be twist, turns, and a lot of unexpected surprises and changes. For now, enjoy probably the most cathartic chapter I have ever written and be on the look out for more to come.

“Put that notion out of your mind. Dumbledore will never allow it”

“I beg to differ Sev. I think he will find it a perfect option”

The argument had started over a light breakfast and continued into the early afternoon. Well, the word argument would have been too harsh. More akin to a heated discussion, both Severus and Narcissa were trying to overcome the impasse they had bumped into. 

“Clearly Harry cannot stay here” Narcissa continued, taking a small sip of her morning tea, “Not only would Dumbledore not allow it, but unlike you, we still get Death Eaters showing up every now and again. Even if they haven’t been around since His return”

“Then we should get in contact with the Weasley's then. Molly would probably love to have Potter living with her”

“And yet do you truly think he would be safe there, as opposed to with some trained to combat those that may come looking for him,” the cool voice of the Malfoy Patriarch cut through the discourse of Severus and Narcissa. 

Lucius, who had been silently observing his friend and wife, for the most part, had opted to finally voice his voice,

“It is painfully clear, to all of us, that Mister Potter is not safe in that home. From what I understand the protections required that a Blood relative called that location home. Seeing as his Aunt is currently missing, it is safe to assume that the blood protections are moot

“Furthermore,” Malfoy continued, giving only a small pause to clear his throat “There isn’t a single Order member who is capable of giving Potter the protection he needs”

“I am nowhere near capable of taking care of a child, let alone the spawn of James Potter,” the Potions Master couldn’t even convince himself of this statement, his voice reflecting as much. 

“Yet I know you can take care of the child of Lily Evans,” Narcissa leveled the man with a look that begged the man to argue with her, “Just like you know she would trust you with her son's life”

If Snape felt he could argue such a statement, he didn’t bother to voice his opinion. Instead, he merely looked off into the middle distance. Would Lily actually hold such sentiment? Sure, they had somewhat reconciled after Hogwarts, at least before Severus was all but forced into the arms of the Dark Lord, but to say she’d trust him with her child? That one was something he was finding hard to believe. 

“Regardless, we would still need to convince Dumbledore that such a move would be prudent. From what I have witnessed, everything he has done with Potter has been to set him on a determined path,” 

“Leave that to me” Narcissa stood from the small breakfast table, giving her robes a small tug to keep them presentable “I shall contact him shortly. Until then, I would suggest collecting yourself, Severus. I can’t make a good case for you to watch over Harry if you are looking so-”

“Hungover” Severus attempted to finish, knowing full well that the amount of Fire Whiskey he had was still within his system. Not to mention the lack of actual rest left him feeling and looking rather rundown

“I was going to say worse for wear, but that works just the same. Go and freshen up. As soon as Dumbledore arrives I’ll have one of the elves come from you. Lucius, if you could take care to ensure we don’t have any other guest pop up while we are having our guest”

“Certainly, Love. I’ll be sure to redirect all Floo traffic into the Guest House. As for you, Severus, I think I have some of my Sober Up potions floating around. I can have them sent up to you”

“I prefer my own brew” with an indignant, though seemingly in jest, sneer Snape took off from the room, his cloak billowing in his wake. 

As he strode towards his personal room within the Malfoy estate he couldn’t help but ruminate on the idea put forth by Narcissa. Lily’s son needed him. It was such a hard concept to wrap his mind around. He had spent years disliking the very notion of Harry Potter that he found it almost impossible to consider him to be the child of the woman he loved. Yet, every time he looked into those eyes, the truth looked right back, filled with indignation and malice towards him. When did he turn those eyes against him? When did Lily’s eyes start looking back at him with hate? More importantly, why didn’t he do anything to stop it? As the maelstrom of question thundered through his mind, Snape resolved to seek those answers. And, perhaps, attempt to make amends.  
\-------

Dumbledore was no stranger to the halls of Malfoy manor. By way of his own methods or occasional visit, the HeadMaster of Hogwarts knew his way around the myriad of halls and pathways that made up the estate. Of course, the aging wizard never let on that he knew such things, it was often better to play such knowledge close to the chest. So, when Narcissa greeted him as he arrived, he feigned ignorance at the fact that he knew of the very hidden pathway she took to get from the depths of the Estate to the front.

“Lovely, as always, to see your Narcissa. I do hope your husband is doing well with his newfound freedom”

If she caught onto the jab Narcissa didn’t let it show on her face. Instead, she merely extended her hand out towards Dumbledore, he grasped it lightly as she led him towards their destination,

“I must say, I was rather confused when you summoned me. Is there any particular reason you couldn’t tell me the urgent matter at hand over the Floo”

“Considering the nature of what I am about to tell you, I couldn't risk having it overheard by anyone, even the portraits. Word travels fast within your castle walls, and I would imagine what I have to tell you would be muttered by the House Elves before nightfall”

“Well my dear, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. These are, as you know, rather dangerous times” they hung a left, which perplexed Dumbledore as they were heading away from the Drawing Room and headed towards the more personal quarters of the estate, “Though, perhaps I should look into upping the wards around my office. A few enchantments to keep prying ears and eyes away from sensitive information”

“A gesture of which I am sure you can accomplish. Though I do hear Fillius is rather skilled with such work” another left and they arrived at a set of wooden doors “Unless you would prefer to be the only one to set up the wards yourself”

“Such work must always be done personally. You can never be too careful these days. Though, if I may not be remiss in asking, what was the reason you brought me here”

Narcissa took in a small breath, trying to steal her thoughts and emotions to the best of her ability. Dumbledore was a fickle man, and while she didn’t think he’d react in an outlandish way when it came to him and Harry Potter, she wasn’t sure what he may do.

“Well, it concerns Mister Potter,” as she began, Narcissa pushed the door open, revealing Harry asleep in the bed, a series of spells floating in the air to monitor his health blinking softly in yellow, “Snape brought him to me last night and...he isn’t in the best of shapes Albus”

The elder wizard stepped forward, looking down at Harry, his eyes shining ever so slightly as he took in the sight of the boy. Even with the work done to him by Narcissa, he could still see the slowly fading scars and bruises that were on his face. The soft rattling of his breath was heavily unsettling, as was the arm, slowly growing back its bones, the fingers still looking limp and lifeless. Harry looked barely held together but DUmbledore had a feeling that this was an improvement over what he looked like the night before.

“Tell me. Did Snape do this” his voice was low, his hands slowly reaching into the pocket of his sleeves,

“What? No" came an utterly incredulous reply "It was his family. That horrible Uncle of his” the arm retreated back from the sleeve, “He had gotten word from Arabella that something was amiss at home. Why she went to him I have no idea, but when he arrived he found Potter in a state that wouldn’t be suited for animals. Let alone a young boy”

As he turned towards Narcissa, something was building up behind those shining eyes. It wasn’t rage or anger, but something else. Even as Narcissa looked she couldn’t put her finger on it, but it did leave her slightly unsettled. As quickly as it came, it was gone, replaced by eyes that were glistening with soft tears.

“Is Severus here, I must speak to him”

“Of course I am here” the voice of the Potions Master rang out from behind Dumbledore as Snape strode into the room, his eyes looking upon the still body of Harry, “And I am so very disappointed in your HeadMaster”

“I couldn’t have known Sev-”

“Don’t lie to me” the slender wizard took a powerful step towards Albus, his finger dangerously close to those eyes, “Don’t look me in the face and say you couldn’t have known”

“I understand you are angry, my boy, but I truly could not. Contrary to popular belief, I cannot know everything that happens in the rather eventful life of Mister Potter”

“Arabella” Snape started up, his voice slowly climbing down from his sudden outburst of passion and ire, “She informed that she sent you a letter, detailing the home life of Potter. Why didn’t you send someone”

“Would you have, Severus” the question gave the Potions Master a slight pause, as Dumbledore removed himself from between the man and the bed of Harry “Her letters didn’t go into detail. They were merely what she perceived to have seen. While yes, I will admit that the Dursely’s were lacking in compassion, nothing in them would have led me to believe they were capable of this. They shouldn’t have been”

“What do you mean” Narcissa stepped in before Snape could respond, “Should have been”

“The wards around the house. The blood magic that protects Harry should have protected him from harm both within and without those walls. Granted, it wouldn’t outright change the hearts of the Muggles, but it would prevent them from doing serious, lasting harm to the boy”

“And what if” Snape began slowly, “His Aunt no longer called Privet Drive home? What would happen to the wards then”

“If that were the case, then they would fail. They wouldn’t be able to protect Mister Potter from harm. Am I to assume that Petunia Dursely no longer calls that place home”

With only a nod in confirmation, Dumbledore turned to look at Potter once more, his face filled with almost unreadable emotions

“Well, if we cannot find her, or she has yet to claim a home for herself then we have to assume that the protection Harry has relied on during the Summer is no longer valid. Perhaps we should move him into Grimmauld Place or into some other form of protection”

“Well, we had considered that Albus” Narcissa drew his attention, circling around to the side of Severus, “While I am sure Grimmauld Place would be safe, it is only a safe house, not a home. It isn’t a proper place to keep an eye on Potter. That is why we figured an alternative Guardian could be used. Specifically, one trained to deal with any complications and alterations that could arrive on their doorstep”

Albus looked between the two Slytherins and quickly put together just what the Malfoy Matriarch was alluding to

“Am I to assume that you would be doing this of your own accord, Severus”

“While” Snape started, keeping his tone even and level, “I am not the biggest fan of Potter, Narcissa is correct. No doubt Potter would get into more trouble if he were with that mangy GodFather of his. Not to mention the lack of proper care that should be given to the body considering his current...situation”

“Yet, from what I have seen for four years, you have no love for the boy. Why do this now Severus” the Headmaster was pressing the needle down hard, prying up whatever he could from his most loyal spy

“Because it is what Lily would have wanted. She’d want someone to keep her son safe. And, without sounding too self-serving, I am the only one equipped to do so”

Albus appeared to mull something over in his mind, a silent conversation with himself as his eyes returned once more to their twinkling state. After a moment of silence, he nodded his approval

“I do hope you understand that Harry will not take lightly to the news. Going from an abusive family to his least-liked Professor may not be seen as a positive step forward”

“No, but” Narcissa once more stepped in before Severus could quickly retort, “I can assure you that Severus will have mine and my husband's full support. We only want what is best for Harry, and I can promise you that no harm will come to him while he is in Severus care”

“Well then, I see no reason to prolong my stay, as the two of you seem to have things settled. Severus, while I do have faith you will be able to handle this, please keep in mind your other mission. With Lucious working on our side it is easier on you, but don’t forget to keep up appearances when necessary”

“I have been your spy for years, Albus. I assure you, watching over Potter will not break my cover in the least”

“Quite right you are. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, could you direct my back to the Floo Narcissa, I tend to get lost here. Also, how is your son doing? Still visiting friends”

Albus said nothing more as Narcissa took hold of his hand and informed him of her son's Summer whereabouts. As the pair left Severus with Potter, he took another look at the boy, feeling something well up inside of him. It was an emotion he wasn’t used to feeling where Potter was concerned. Perhaps Cissa was right, and he could do this. Though, he knew very well that it was going to be difficult to endure.

“I’ll do it for you, Lily. I’ll do it for you”

\----------------------Four Days Later

Returning to the land of the living didn’t come easy to Harry, but he was also no stranger to the feeling of it. The weight of sheer exhaustion pinning him down to the bed. The hazy cloud of forgetfulness impairing his memories of how he was injured. Yes, when Harry finally awoke, for him, it was like drifting into the arms of a familiar person, though not one you wanted to be around in the slightest.

As he sat up, a dull ache radiated out from his back to the rest of his body. The urge to try and pop his back rose within him, though he knew it would be a bad idea. He didn’t want to risk his Uncle hearing him. His Uncle!

Fear struck Harry as he wrenched his eyes open and tried to fling himself out of his bed. The daily beating had been bad, but he knew they would be worse if he wasn’t downstairs fixing the man's food. Forgoing the search for glasses, the young man hastily attempted to get out of bed, finding his legs were responding as he landed with a thud onto the ground. Despite the sparks of pain that radiates through his body, the young wizard braced for the coming steps of Vernon. Braced for the hot lashes of pain he’d rain down on him for making such a racket. 

The pain never came.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, Harry opened his eyes, trying to make sense of the foggy world around him. Even with his poor vision, he knew that he wasn’t at Privet Drive. The biggest giveaway was the fact that he tried to launch himself out of a bed when such things had been taken from him by Vernon. Trying to sit up, Harry let out a loud scream of shock. His arm, rather his hand, he couldn’t feel it. He had placed his weight on his right hand and felt the flesh of his fingers and hand bend on itself. Harry tried to move the digits, feeling nothing in response.

“Oh my, let me help you Harry” the voice was oddly calming, the fuzzy blot of a female figure waving a wand in his direction. Before Harry could even react, he felt the warm tingle of magic coat his body as he levitated off the ground and back into the softness of the bed. 

Harry couldn’t place the speak but something about her voice made him relax ever so slightly. It was like hearing someone whom he knew would do right by him, a rarity in his life these days. The warmth from her continued to permeate his soul as she took time to cover him with the thick blanket and reach out to place his frames upon his face. As his eyes adjusted to the lens, he let out a small gasp as the face of Draco’s Mum beamed down at him.

“Bit of a shock, I know,” was all she said before summoning a chair for her to sit down in “If you permit me, I can fill you in, though I’d imagine your new caretaker might want to do that himself”

“Ne-new caretaker” he reached up and rubbed at his throat, his voice was rough, almost barely a whisper. Draco’s Mum waved her wand once more and he felt a cooling sensation ease the pain away

“Try not to speak too much Dear, your throat and lungs took...well they weren’t in the best of shapes when you got here”

“And where is here” Harry hissed, the boy finding speaking to be a bit easier

“Why Malfoy Manor of course. I’d have assumed you would have picked up on it. Draco said you could be perceptive when you wanted to”

Harry was about to question why his school time bully would say something that didn’t sound disparaging towards him when the door to the room he was in opened and in strode,

“Professor Snape!”

The dark cloak seemed to billow of its own accord as Snape stood in the door frame, looking a tad bit out of breath, though only his slightly heaving chest gave it away. His face, however, kept its customary cool demeanor, as his eyes surveyed the scene. 

“Mister Potter. It seems you have finally decided to join us”

Nothing would ever change with this man, Harry thought. He watched as the Potions Master swept his cloak inside and summoned a chair with a flick of his wand, sitting just across from Narcissa,

“I do hope you haven’t been ungrateful to your host. She has taken great care in...bringing you from the brink of death. Not that you haven’t managed such feats before”

It was hard to tell if it was a compliment or an insult, but Harry knew which way to take it. That low drawl, that sharp sneer. There was no compassion to be had in that voice,

“Much to your annoyance I’d imagine. Did you just come here to just insult me or to see if I finished my Summer potions essay? If it is the latter, I will have to leave you disappointed once again”

Stormy black eyes narrowed dangerously, drawing upon the ire felt within Snape as he looked at the ungrateful whelp he had saved just a few days ago. Every insult he could think of burned forth from his throat, a rising tide of flames and vitriol. It was primed, ready to be released, until he caught a glimpse of those eyes. Those sorrowful green eyes. Eyes that clearly betrayed the bitter pain that the proud Lion was trying to hide. How many times had they looked like that? How many times did he miss out on seeing the fallout of his words?

_“How could I not see the same pain I’d gone through before”_

The two men stared at one another. The elder was lost in a sea of conflicting thoughts, while the younger was trying his best to shoulder what was sure to be a rising tirade of hate. Before either of them could speak or respond to what they thought would happen, Narcissa cut the silence

“I think, Harry, that your Professor was merely worried about you. He did bring you here after all”

Harry turned pale, stark white. The alarming rate at which his blood drained from his face almost made Narcissa jump in worry

“Wha-What did you see?” the boy muttered, shame clouding his words. Shame and fear.

“Everything” Snape spoke after a moment, “I saw everything Pot-Harry”

White knuckles curled along the blanket, the boy starting to shrink in on himself. _He saw_ , his mind yelled at him. _Snape saw how much of a pathetic freak you are. Saw that you couldn’t even defend yourself against a Muggle._ The boy didn’t know when his chest started to grow tight, or when his breath quickened. _He is going to tell everyone. Then everyone will know that you’re a Freak. A fraud. Too weak to save Cedric. Too weak to stop your Uncle._

The words began to crescendo into his ears, the feeling of shadows crowding and pressing into him. He could feel eyes, hundreds of them, baring down at him. It was like the Triwizard Tournament again. All those eyes, looking at him. Looking at the failure. 

“-arry. -arry! HARRY”

A vice began to punch through the sounds, pushing away the dark spots that had begun to encroach over his vision. Warm hands tenderly touched his back, rubbing in soothing motions, while another hand raised a bottle to his lips. Velvety liquid spilled into his mouth, coating his tongue in a wave of lavender. His heart rate began to drop, his breathing steady, and even out. As the last of the dark spots faded away, he found himself sitting upon the floor, entangled in his covers, his back pressed almost against the wall, save for the hand still rubbing in circles.

“It is alright Harry. Just take a second and breathe. It is a panic attack, no one is going to harm you”

As the voice spoke, Harry looked up and was shocked to find Snape sitting on the floor beside him, talking in hushed whispers, still rubbing his back. He should have been shocked, should have been running in the other direction. This was the closest he had ever been to Snape, to feel the man physically touching him. It was something he’d always thought would be repulsive. Yet, why was it so calming.

“Just let the draught run its course. I brewed it for my students who suffer from severe anxiety. I only tend to break it out during O.W.L.s”

If Snape was directing this towards Harry, the boy didn’t care. No, the only thing he cared about was the sense of peace that was slowly blanketing his body. Was it the potion? It had to be. Yet, the feeling didn’t radiate from his stomach, where he felt the heat of the potion settle. No, it came from that hand, still rubbing his back. A hand that helped the boy to his feet and back into his bed. A hand that, of all things, adjusted his glasses and pulled the covers over his body.

“Si-Sir. You don’t have to do that”

The words took both the Professor and the student out of their collective thoughts as if the tender moment had been shattered by the sudden realization that it was even occurring. Snape drew himself back to his chair, his face quickly going from placid and worried, to neutral once more. Harry, on the other hand, cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, eyeing the sight of his silent Professor

“Quite right Potter” Snape started, “But seeing as it may have been the realization that I had...well let us just say a venture into the Lion’s Den, that triggered your attack I felt responsible to help you”

“But why? I would have figured you’d enjoy seeing the son of James Potter freaking out”

No one spoke. Almost no one breathed. The sense of stillness cast its own magic upon the room, no one sure of what would be said next.

“And yet...here we are,” was all Snape said, running a finger along the bridge of his hooked nose “Here we are and all I have to say is...I am sorry Harry,”

The words were like a gut punch, a reeling blow that left Harry slightly floored

“You are, without a doubt, the son of James Potter. I will not lie to you, I despised you,” Snape didn’t dare look at Harry as he spoke, unsure if he could face those green eyes “From that moment you walked into Hogwarts, looking every bit of the overconfident brat that your father was, I despised you”

“Whenever you spoke, walked, ate, all I could see was him. All I could see was the man who would undermine and torment me at every turn. Once more, I also saw a spoiled brat who was raised on his own lofty legend. I thought you haughty, nothing more than an attention-seeking fame hound. Another James looking to leave his mark”

“Is...is this supposed to make me feel better” the remark was rather quick on Harry’s end, filled with a bit of wit and cynicism that wouldn’t have felt out of place coming from Snape

“The point is, you impatient brat, that I thought wrong. I, of every soul within that castle, should have noticed what you were going through. Seen the signs. Should have looked beyond your lineage and seen the boy who needed help. For that, I am truly sorry, even though that can never make up for what I have done”

When Snape finally looked up, he saw those green eyes once more, looking at him, glistening with held back tears. As they welled up and began to spill over, Severus felt his own heart ache in response. The sheer weight and emotion that was on that boy's face, you’d have sworn it was the first time anyone had ever truly apologized to him. It most likely was.

“Do-does this mean I still have to do your essay” Harry mumbled between small snobs he tried to keep under control, failing miserably

“Of course Potter. Just because I will be taking care of you, doesn’t mean you’ll be getting any special treatment”

“Wait...what you mean taking care of me”

Narcissa, who had been sitting rather patiently the entire time, took the small break in the overwhelming emotionality of the moment, to speak up, startling both males as if they had forgotten that she was even present

“That was what I was going to tell you. The Headmaster was here earlier and has approved of Severus taking care of you during the Summer. Considering the heart to heart you both had, I’d say it was a swell choice”

“You don’t need to sound so happy about it Narcissa” Snape hissed, his persona returning once more to its collected form, “Though she is correct Potter, you will be staying with me”

“I...what happened to Harry," the anxious boy interrupted his own thoughts with his worry "You weren't saying all of that before and being nice just to get me to agree to stay with you” the young man's voice went low, wary of the answer as he went back on guard

“Not in the least bit,” Severus' response was just as quick, watching as Harry seemed to relax that sudden defensive posture “Just because I have apologized doesn’t mean I will be changing on the Galleon. Things take time Pott- Harry. Just promise me you will be patient”

Being patient with Snape was about as likely as Harry living with the man. Yet, as fate had it, that was just what was happening. Even now, as Snape took his attention away from his new ward to converse with Narcissa, Harry felt unsure about this. Not when it came to living with Snape, his emotions were still firmly planted in the “Holy Hell” category. No, his uncertainty was rising from the sense of peace he felt when Snape addressed him as Harry. Why did something so simple fill him with...such warmth. He was probably even more messed up in the head than he thought, but, for now, at least, he’d enjoy the feeling.


	3. A Wilted Flower Blooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, back again with another chapter. This one is a bit on the shorter side, well somewhat. It was far longer than this, but it was getting a bit unwieldy so it is going to be cut in two for now. Much like the last one, this one is going to be a bit heavy on the emotional moments and catharsis. I am still sowing seeds that will bare wonderful fruit as the story goes on, so do enjoy and bare with me. I know things are starting kinda slow. 
> 
> Next chapter will be out sometime next week, where we finally get to spend some time with Harry and get into his mindset more. After that, I will either pick up with the second half of this chapter, or...something else. Who knows. Anyway, enjoy and leave comments if you'd like!  
> \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

How long had she been driving? At least a few hours now. Yet, no matter how long Petunia drove, she still could seem to outrun the specter of her past. As the English countryside stretched before her, all Petunia could think about was...her sister.  


The thoughts had been plaguing her mind ever since Harry was sent off to that school of his the year before. It was around the time of October 31st, the anniversary of her sister’s passing, that the dreams had started. It was simple enough, she was sitting in a park. The idyllic sunshine that was never customary in London warmed her skin. She watched as two boys played off in the distance, their face obscured by the rows and rows of flowers. The fact that they were all lilies didn’t cross her mind until she noticed them. As she did, she felt the presence of someone beside her. 

_“This could have been real, Tuney”_ spoke the voice of Lily Evans, those bright green eyes looking right into the soul of Petunia. 

She had awoken with a start, clutching at her chest, feeling her heartbeat rapidly beneath her fingers. Vernon merely grunted and tugged even more of the blankets from her, leaving her bare to the chilled air, and her own thoughts. It had felt... so real. Petunia swore she could still feel the warmth of the sun, its glowing leaving her arms paradoxically covered in goosebumps. She couldn’t even recall the last time she had dreamed of her sister. Heck, she couldn’t even recall the last time she’d dream so vividly. As she turned over, shuddering slightly as the warmth from the dream faded away, Petunia attempted to return to slumber. Hopefully, it was only a one-time thing. 

The dreams lasted for several months.

By the time the First of December turned over, Petunia had various sleepless nights. The times she did get sleep seemed to be tied to her trying to talk to her sister. The first time, she attempted to banish her away by yelling. The next time, she had resorted to leaping at her, only to awaken with a crash on her bedroom floor, Vernon still sleeping soundlessly. No matter what she tried, no matter the outlandish attempts to rid herself of the phantasmal specter of her sister, it never worked. Petunia began to avoid sleeping, using various pills and tonics to prolong her awakened state. She stayed up for hours, cleaning up the entire house, not allowing herself an ounce of rest. For the first few days, it worked, and she was free from her sister's visage. That was until December 18th.  
Dudley and Vernon were seated at the table, dining in silence over breakfast. Dudley, to his credit, was attempting to eat healthily. She was sure it had to do with a comment made by his father the day before, leaving the boy looking sullen and cross. It was odd, as normally he’d pitch a fit, instead, he just seemed to resign himself to the words. Even as he attempted to eat the fruit he had requested, his eyes still looked distant, empty almost. Where had she seen that look before

_“When you told Harry he was far too skinny to be worth feeding”_

Petunia bolted up from the table, stemware crashing to the ground, leading Vernon to curse and Dudley to shrink away to his room in the commotion. There, just behind where she had been sitting, was her sister. Those bright red locks, those vibrant green eyes. Just as sure as she could see her husband, she was looking at her sister. 

“Li-Lily? You can’t be here,” she yelled, picking up a cup and hurling it at the vision, the glass sailing into the living room “You’re dead! You’re dead and that freakish world of yours killed you”

Petunia didn’t know when she had sunken to the floor, or when the tears had started to pour down her face. It was only when she felt the arms of her son coming to hold her close, and the voice of Vernon, once again yelling at her and threatening to have her committed, did Petunia come back to reality. Through her tears she dared to look up at the spot where Lily once stood, finding it void. As she looked at that empty spot, she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilty. It was the closest she had even really been to her sister, and she had tried to attack her.

The medication was powerful, Vernon saying he had pulled connections to get her stuff that would “Purge whatever freakishness Harry had put on her”. Petunia didn’t even question it. Her doctor had said it was probably stress, leading to her mind to conjure up images from events that she hadn’t reconciled. He too was behind Vernon’s medication idea, probably because they were close personal friends. Regardless, when she took the pills, the world faded away into a dull roar and she moved on autopilot. She felt trapped within her own mind, and she hated every moment of it. Even with the pills though, the visions never stopped.

Every day, upon waking, she’d see her sister at the foot of her bed, hand outstretched as if trying to take her somewhere. Petunia had learned to stay silent when this happened after Vernon had pinned her down and forced her to take three of the pills to keep her quiet so he could sleep in. She’d take her meds and, after a while, Lily would fade from her sight. She’d be on automatic until 4 PM when it was time to take another dose. Even without the alarm, Petunia knew when it was time as Lily would often start appearing as the medications hold on her mind slipped. Every time, she’d have her hand outstretched. Every time, Petunia would banish her away. Once it was time for bed, she’d take a sleeping pill designed to prevent dreams and get ready to start the cycle once more. For Vernon, it was bliss. For Dudley, it was horrific seeing his mother act so indifferent. For Petunia, it was her only choice it seemed. At least until fate seemed to intervene.

Vernon was due to go out of town, something about a drill convention. It was clearly a lie, as Petunia had long since figured out the man was having an affair with, of all people, the doctor who’d given her the pills. She didn’t mind he was bisexual, it was the fact he lied and treated her like trash. Just the same, when she popped the pills, those thoughts seemed to just melt away. It was while he was away that Petunia had a bit of a breakthrough.

She was in the kitchen, cleaning the counters for the umpteenth time that day. Dudley was out in the yard, doing actual yard work. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen the boy hold onto a rake. Normally it was Harry’s job. Then again, everything was Harry’s job in her house.

_“And you never saw that as a problem, Tuney”_

Lily was back, this time sitting on the counter beside her. Petunia jumped back, unsure how long that spector had been sitting there. Regardless, she rushed for the bottle of pills sitting by the sink. Vernon went out of the way to get her a new bottle, no need to let it go to waste. As she moved, the bottle jumped of its own accord, the cap popping free and thirty little red pills tipped there way into the suds and dirty water she’d been using to clean her kitchen.

_“And now, you have to listen to me Petunia. Just, for once, listen, don’t try to react”_

“How can I not react” Petunia whispered to the ghost of her past, her voice cracking with emotion, “Why can’t you just leave me alone. Go back to being dead”

_“Since when have I ever let my sister alone when she was hurting, or in trouble, hm”_

“When you went to that school of yours. When you left me behind and became a witch. Do you know how hard it was, living with Mom and Dad as they talked endlessly about how you were the best daughter they could have had”

The spirit didn’t say anything for a few moments, merely looking at her sister, those green eyes filled with a sense of regret

“They got such a great little girl” Petunia continued, spurred on by decades of old emotions finally coming forth, “They got a witch who meant the world to them, and I lost my sister!”

Petunia felt ill, feeling her heart in her ears, her face flushed with heat. With anger. With sorrow. With every mix of emotion possible

“You sit there and tell me to listen? Since when didn’t I listen? I heard you when you came home, talking endlessly about moving portraits. About how ghosts were real. You would keep me awake, showing me all sorts of things from your books. I was forced to listen, as you talked about a world I could never be a part of. A world that you mocked me with”

“Year after year, you’d go off and then come back with some new tale. Not to mention your friend, who lived just down the street. How that black-haired boy went to your school too. I’d listen alright, I’d do nothing but listen as you told me about how great your life was. How great it was without me”

Petunia was shaking, trying to compose herself. She was sure the neighbors could hear her, but she didn’t care. Let them hear, she needed to say this. The spirit of her sister just sat there, looking at her. Lily didn’t say anything, just watched her sister, before a sad smile crossed those lips

_“I never knew how you felt...about me going Tuney. I felt bad leaving you, every year I went I wished I could have brought you with me. My first year I tried to use a spell I made up to bring you to the school. I burned off my eyebrows for a month. I told you all of that stuff because...I wanted you to feel a part of it. I am sorry if Mum and Dad ignored you, but I never shared the stuff I did with you to them. You want to know why Tuney”_

Petunia looked up, catching her breath as her sister stood before her, ghostly hands reaching out to grasp living ones

_“Because I love you. You are my sister, and I wanted you to feel every exciting day I had felt. I wanted to share that with you. I never meant to mock or hurt you. I wanted to make you feel a part of my world. I wanted you to be with me, even when you couldn’t”_

It wasn’t clear which sister moved in first, but regardless, they both found themselves locked in a loving embrace. For the first time in many years, Petunia hugged her sister, a radiating warmth punching into her soul. As they hugged, she felt her face wet with warm tears, uncaring about how it made her look. The two stood there, embraced before reality came crashing back down onto the living of the pair

“Wait? How are you even here? And...oh God, Lily I am so sorry. For everything, I have ever done to Harry. I should have known better. I do know better. Mum would have tanned my hide if she knew what I did. What I let happen”

_“I know Petunia, and I forgive you. I don’t like it. I hated being powerless to stop it, but I also know that it wasn’t fully your fault. I know Vernon forced your hand”_

“That doesn’t excuse it. I should have spoken up all those times when I wanted to. I should have let him go through any of the things I put him through. I...I watched him burn his hand when I made him cook breakfast. I wanted to help bandage him up but I didn’t I couldn’t bring myself to do so”

_“Magic will do that to you”_

“Magic? What are you talking about Lily,” Petunia let out a, frankly, deranged sounding laugh “Why would Harry use magic to make me awful to him”

_“He didn’t, someone else did. The same person who weakened my protection over my son and your house. As long as Harry lived here, lived with you, he should have been protected from dangers both within and without. Yet, someone altered the protection magic somehow. I still don’t know who or how. Whatever they did, it allowed them to cast a ward over the house and-”_

Petunia held up her hand, quickly drawing the attention of her sister. It took the spirit a second to catch on, but then Lily let out a small laugh, 

_“Sorry. Forgot how fast I can go”_

“I remember when you first told me about that broom sport, Quidwhich. I don’t think you took a breath as you tried to explain the rules”

_“Quidditch. Still getting the name wrong after all this time. Still, I’ll slow it down. All you need to know is that someone was trying to make sure that Harry’s life wasn’t good. It’s taken me years to build up enough magic strength to reach you and now that I have, I’m going to help you leave this place”_

“I-I can’t leave her Lily. Dudley has his friend. I have dinner parties, friends, a life! I can’t just pack up and leave”

_“You really have to, for your own sake. For your son's sake and for mine. Whoever cast the spells to weaken my magic will probably know I’ve gotten stronger. I can’t risk them finding you, even if they don’t care enough to notice. It may be scary Petunia, but I know you can do it. At the very least, do it to try and start a new life. One away from Vernon”_

At the mention of her husband Petunia felt something...odd. It wasn’t bad, not in the least bit. No, it was fiery, passionate. Resolve and determination welled up within her, reflected all within her eyes, shining with newfound confidence. 

“But...where can we go” Petunia questioned, her voice sounding mournful despite the hope the thought of leaving this place was bringing her

_“I’ve already taken care of that. James and I made contingency plans when we joined the war, all you have to do is visit my grave. For now, as impulsive as you want to be, bide your time. You don’t want to attract any undue attention. You’ll know when to leave and when you do, don’t look back. Also, before you go do me a favor”_

Petunia looked back at her sister, a gasp leaving her throat as she looked a bit more transparent than before

_“The lady who watches Harry, asks her to only seek out Severus Snape if she ever thinks Harry is in trouble. It is of the utmost importance that you tell her this”_

“Snape? You mean that black-haired friend of yours. The one you fancied? Why? Can’t I just take Harry when he comes back and leave with him”

_“Not possible I am afraid. It would be too dangerous for you to try and move him. At least if he is here, I can watch over him, at least until my magic dries up”_

“You...you aren’t the real Lily, are you” it wasn’t a question, but it was spoken with all the soft reverence such a statement deserved 

_“I am real, just not as much as you’d like me to be. The magic that protects Harry and your family, it is like a picture of sorts. It has a snapshot of who I was right before I died. I only know what happens within these walls and nothing else. That, however, doesn’t make me any less real”_

Petunia watched as Lily began to fade away, the red hair and green eyes vanishing into the air, along with the rest of her. Petunia reached out, feeling the warmth of her sisters' hands one last time, as the vanished into nothing

_“Take care of yourself, Petunia. And take care of my son. I trust you will do right by him from now on”_

As her voice faded away into the ether, Petunia was left standing alone in her kitchen. Her hands were still outstretched, though they were grasping onto nothing. Just beside her, the full bottle of pills was still resting right where she left it. Unopened. With a slim smile, she took the bottle and upturned its contents into the water and flipped on the disposal. With that done she began to form a plan and do right by her sister's memory.  
\--------------------

That had been months ago. When she did leave in the dead night towards the end of May, she did so with only the smallest of plans in her mind. Petunia had an idea of where her sister was buried. A card had arrived inviting her to the funeral. While Vernon wanted to burn it, Petunia had kept it, hidden away under the floorboards alongside the blanket Harry had arrived in. While she wasn’t the best with directions, she had gotten some help in that regard from Miss. Figg.

The lady insisted she wasn’t a witch, but she was still able to provide Petunia with a bevy of items to make her escape more viable, including a magic map of England. The conversations they had before the night Petunia made her escape had been great and it made her wish she had spent more time talking to the woman. Even Dudley had enjoyed his time when he needed to escape the house to get away from the ever increasingly violent Vernon. 

With a few personal items already locked away in a car that she had rented, parked in Miss. Figgs driveway for extra safety, Petunia had begun her silent exodus from her home. Dudley was already waiting downstairs, his ears turned upwards to hear for his father should he awaken. 

“Mum...are you sure about this. What if we get caught, or he calls the coppers”

It had been tough watching her son worry endlessly after Petunia had let him know of what they were doing. She had expected him to fight and go crying to his Father. Shockingly, he was on board. Clearly the toll of living with Vernon had been weighing heavily on him as well. Once more, Petunia was sure there was a lot that her son wasn’t telling her. She'd resolved to pry into this later after they were safe. 

“Don’t worry sweetie, I assure you no police are going to come looking for us. Now, go ahead and rush over to Miss. Figg, I’ll be right over”

Dudley seemed reluctant to leave his mother alone, but nodded and craftily opened the front door, taking off down the street as fast as his frame would allow. 

Happy to know that, at the very least, her son was safe, Petunia walked into her kitchen. Underneath the table light was the letter she had written for Vernon, atop it was her wedding ring. The letter itself was to the point, outlining not only his infidelity but the cruelty towards herself and their son. Above all, it lamented the damage and pain they had both inflicted on Harry. She told Vernon that, while she couldn’t take Harry, there would be people watching, and if he did anything they would stop at nothing to protect the boy. At the end of the letter she finished off by saying she should have listened to her sister and never married Vernon, but now she was going to honor her memory.

“Are you sure Harry will be safe without me here, won’t that make the magic even weaker”

Petunia turned towards Lily who stood beside the kitchen door, looking at her sister with hope in her eyes

_“I can’t be sure. While it won’t be strong enough to ward off any Dark Wizards, it should protect him from Vernon’s wrath at least. It just needs to last until the time Harry gets here and until it is time for him to leave. If not, then we just have to trust Miss. Figg to step in”_

It wasn’t a lot to go on, but it was all she had. For Petunia, she could only hope her sister’s words were true. With a small sigh, Petunia pulled out the divorce papers from her clutch, laying them atop the letter. It was amazing what she could get Vernon to sign if he was drunk enough. With one final look at the kitchen, Petunia headed for the door, going from A Dursley and back to Evans as she passed over the threshold.  
\--------------------------------

“Mum, I think the map wants us to turn here”

The sound of her son’s voice in the passenger side broke through her mental recollection, glad her relapse into the past was only a few moments in reality. Slowing the car down, she took a quick turn and drove down a well-worn path. 

Despite its distance from the city, the area surrounding Godric's Hollow looked rather quaint and nice. It had been hell trying to get there, the road trip taking far longer as the map seemed to have a mind of its own. Ever so often the little blinking icons of Petunia and Dudley would take random turns for long stretches of time. She never figured out a way, though Dudley had joked that they may have been followed. The two of them tried to laugh off the dark idea, but it didn’t rid the notion from their minds.

Regardless, once they did get closer to their destination, Petunia started to enjoy the area. She could see why her sister would have moved out here. It was nice and quiet. The perfect place to start a family, that much was for sure. Perhaps, in another life, she would have enjoyed visiting her sister here. It was a somber thought as they drove into Godric Hollow proper.

At some point, the roads became impassable by car, the pair having to leave it parked just outside of the small village that the map was directing them towards. As they strode into the village center, they were struck by just how quiet the area was. The few people that around gave them small nods here and there. A few even wished them well, tipping oddly shaped hats. Between that and a few odd choices of clothing, it was easy to figure out that the two were among magical folks. Just the same, they didn’t bother either one of them as they continued to walk their way towards the village center and beyond, where the map was leading them towards.

As the pair neared the village center, they spotted a young couple taking a look at a statue of two adults holding a small child in their hands

“Can you believe that Potter really thinks that You-Know-Who is back?” the young female said to her companion, the male nodded in reply

“I’d say Harry may have finally gone a bit mad. After all, he did come back with that dead boy’s body at the end of the tournament”

The two left from the statue, the rest of the conversation fading away as Petunia looked at them. She didn’t understand most of it, but she knew her nephews name, and that was enough to prompt her to take a look at the statue.

At first, it looked like just a solid black pillar of rock, nothing extraordinary. Yet, after a moment, the pillar shuddered and a carved statue took its place. Upon it was the soft features of her sister, hewn into the rock. Likewise, the visage of her husband and what she could only assume was a baby Harry, were just as tenderly carved. 

“A-are you seeing this too, Mum” Dudley whispered, as they both looked at the same statue

“Yes, Diddy-kins. I see it too. I...I never knew this was here”

“Do you think Harry ever knew this was here...ever seen it before”

The pause hung heavily in the air, the answers unspoken but known between Mother and Son. They both looked at the statue, marveling at the face of Lily carved into stone, her gaze looking down at a baby Harry. Just to her side, a man Petunia had only seen once, James, looked at them both in a loving gaze. Petunia felt so many emotions well inside of her, none that she could clearly name.

“Come on Dudley, we need to continue on”

The pair left the statue with one more look before they continued their steps towards the graveyard that was just barely beyond the village's walls.

With the dying sunlight at their backs, the graveyard cast long shadows tinged with orange as Petunia and Dudley opened the gate to the small plot. There weren’t too many graves there, but the ones that were present had been well maintained over the years. They didn’t spend too much time looking at the names that were carved into stone, instead heading for a pair of graves that seemed to have a sense of prominence to them, with how they were placed a little towards the back yet still in the center of the plot of land. 

As Petunia neared, Dudley hanging back but just a hair, she took a hefty breath of air and took a look at the final resting place of her sister. It looked so...simple. So ordinary. Nowhere near enough justice to cover the magnitude of life and personality her sister had. Petunia felt regret that she had ignored coming here all those years ago, but she didn’t let those feelings linger any longer than they needed to.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to visit Lily” Petunia bean, kneeling onto the soft grass beside the headstone “I know I had the chance to speak with you...well a version of you, but it wasn’t the same. All I can do is just say...sorry

“Sorry that I spent so much of my life thinking you weren’t worthy of love...that I wasn’t worthy to be your sister. I can’t take back the things I’ve done. What I’ve said. The actions I’ve taken against your son...against you. All I can do is apologize and promise that I will find a way to make it all better”

Hot tears spilled from her eyes, falling with reverence onto the grass below. Kneeling her head against the gravestone, Petunia let the emotions wash over her, feeling a powerful warmth radiate inside of her as she gave in to those feelings, letting them take over her. IN the silence all Petunia could hear were her mournful sobs, the sound of Dudley breathing, and the wind rattling around her. All of this was undone with the sound of a vicious crackle in the air.

“Madam Petunia Evans”

The sound had made Petunia worriedly cast her eyes towards her son, finding someone between the two of them, Dudley staring down at the creature between them. Her heartbeat quickened as she looked upon the squat creature, hooked nose upturned at her direction, its hands outstretched, holding a wooden crate within them

“Madam Petunia Evans” the creature spoke once more in a gnarled rasp, placing the wooden box onto the ground “I am here on behalf of one Lily Evans Potter. I am here to execute her final Will and Testament”


	4. Not a Chapter, just an update

Hey guys, Arty here!!! I am still working on this fic, it isn't dead or anything. It was my bday last week so took time for that. Will have the next chapter up within the week!


	5. What was Said Upon A Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!! Sorry for the bit of a wait on the next chapter! Do hope you all enjoy this one, it took me awhile to get to where I needed to be with it. We have some more set up on the way, in addition to more progress for Harry's mental health. Also, I think it is time we got to see what old Voldy was up to, don't you guys think so?
> 
> Anyway, please leave a comment or a Kudos, they really keep me going!!!

The spread was wonderful, rather befitting of the Malfoy’s and their regal standing. Even meals served within the Hogwarts castle seem to pale in comparison to the bevy of food before him. It all smelled divine, yet the urge to throw up was striking Harry far harder than it should have.

The meal had been brought, rather appeared, before Harry after waking. It was hard to tell if the Malfoy’s were overcompensating with their generosity, or they were trying to cover any possible preferences that Harry might have for food, but the outcome was all the same. A platter of food that seemed to cover various cuisines.

The melange of smells should have left Harry diving into the platter, trying to get his fill, but he couldn’t find the urge to eat. The sight of the food, it sent his mind reeling, his heart pumping, his breathing becoming erratic. The young wizard had to pull himself away from the table, directing his wheelchair to roll back towards a small nook in his room.

After his heart-to-heart with Snape the day before, Mrs. Malfoy had filled him in on the extent of his injuries. As she read off the list of the more egregious ones, a look of venom in her eyes as she thought about the man who did this to him, Harry was glad that the exam spell was only surface deep. While his memory was still hazy of the two weeks, he was sure there was stuff missing. Stuff that, when he tried to drag the memories up, made his vision go white and his headache.

She had ordered him to bed rest for a full two weeks, with limited activity sans physical therapy for his arm. As for the wheelchair, it was temporary, until he could get his strength back up. In classic Gryffindor fashion, he tried to prove this wrong and stand up under his power. After being helped up to his feet by a stone-faced Snape, suppressing some form of amusement, he had conceded to her whims. 

Harry couldn’t stand feeling so...helpless. Everything felt out of his control, which seemed to be normal in his life, but at least he had some sort of sway over the outcome. Here, his voice and opinion was noted but often contradicted with what was best for him. Yet, even as choices were made for him, the helplessness felt...different. He hadn’t put his finger as to why, but while it irked him, it didn’t come with a sense of frustration that he was used to.

“Mr. Potter,” the voice of Snape was the only warning to him breaching the doors to the room Harry was in, opening them without a care in the world for privacy “I suggest you take a meal from the platter before your day begins. Unless you enjoy the taste of nutrient potions, which is the path you are heading on”

The flames of goodwill that had been lit the night before between Professor and Student were still in their infancy. It was clear neither one of them knew where their new relationship stood and had no clear idea of how to go about each other. Making it all the easier to slip into old roles.

“For someone so good at brewing,” Harry began, wheeling back to the table to look over the food “How come you can’t brew a nutrient potion that tastes good. Not only that but I don’t need them. I’m fine without them”

The dig was more said in jest than actual malice, though Snape seemed to take the more negative connotation of it. His nostrils flared ever so slightly as he tried to fight back words that he sorely wanted to say.

_Remember Severus, have patience_

“If you had merely paid attention in class Potter, you’d know that anything used to change the taste of a potion will change its composition, rendering it useless. Much li-” he caught himself mid-sentence

“Don’t worry Professor” Harry looked over at the man, his eyes looked ever slightly downtrodden “I know how you feel. No need to cut yourself off”

Swallowing his pride, a rare feat, Snape moved over to the table and pulled up a chair beside the young man, not making a verbal note at how Harry jerked ever so slightly away from him.

“How about this Po-Harry. While I cannot brew nutrient potions that would be suited towards your delicate palate. I do have stores of potions that help with nervous stomachs. Perhaps that would help in your choice of meal for the morning”

The gesture gave Harry pause, once again giving the Potions Master a curious look, unsure of how to accept his words. 

“I...thank you...Sir” he started, his voice still trying to wrap itself around the words he was saying to Snape of all people “But it isn’t my stomach. I’m just not...hungry I guess” he was prodding at the food as if inspecting it for traps. 

“Perhaps you are correct. After all, going right to lavish meals probably isn’t the right way to start your recovery”

“Yeah, that’s it” Harry responded snappily, taking the easy out, “I think I should suffer through the potions for now”

“At least,” Snape vanished the platter of food, producing a bottle filled with an amber-colored liquid “For today. After this, I want to see you attempt to eat actual food. I will not be bringing an emaciated Lion into my home because he was too proud to eat”

While both men knew that wasn’t the case, with Snape making a note to ask about the young man's clear aversion to the food, it was an easy concession for them both to make. Harry got to feel like he won a small battle and was respected. As for Snape, he wasn’t too sure what he got out of it, but watching as Harry put up with the taste of the potion did fill him with some small emotion. Pride perhaps? 

“Speaking of your home, I take it we will be going there after these two weeks have passed”

“Yes, and there will be rules and chores. This isn’t going to be some summer vacation Potter. I do not tolerate laziness within my walls”

“No different from my regular Summers then. Well, unless you too have room to lock me in when I’m not needed. Then it will be no different” the young man wheeled away from the table, leaving the glass bottle behind as he looked out of the window

“I assure you” Snape's voice became rather quiet “While I will not permit you to laze around my house, I will never treat you like they did Harry”

Snape reached out, hesitating before pulling his hand back, conflict brewing within him.

“Harry” he began, walking behind the young man “You are aware that what they did was wrong? That you never should have been treated like that”

“Was it though” Harry spoke after a long pause, his words sending a spike of chill into Severus “I mean, what if they were right and I am a freak. Just a useless boy, good only for cleaning”

It was the lack of emotion in the declaration that left Severus stunned. The flat even tone, spoken with a sense of finality. To be honest, Severus didn’t know how Harry spoke. Sure, when they had a confrontation in class Harry was rather passionate in his speech. But, he had never just heard the young man just talk. Actually, hear him when he wasn’t defending himself or facing down some sort of crisis.

“I couldn’t even save Cedric you know. Everyone looks at me like I’m going to save the whole bloody lot of them, but I can’t even save one person. Isn’t that the definition of being a useless Professor. Of being a good for nothing freak”

“Harry James Potter,” the aforementioned young man quickly spun his chair around to face Snape with his full attention “As long as I am alive on this Earth, I never want to hear you refer to yourself as useless. Not. A. Single. Time

“Are you a brat, who gets himself into too much trouble, yes. But you are not useless. Unrefined at worse, but not useless. I don’t know what those relatives poured into your head, but you are not a freak. Do not let their words poison your mind”

“But, that is all I hear. All the time. Whenever I screw up, or do something wrong, or let someone down. All I hear is them, laughing, mocking”

“Then, I suggest we find you, someone, to help sort out your inner feelings. I am sure we can find a MindHealer”

“I don’t want anyone poking around in my mind” 

“Then a therapist instead”

“Right, because I want more people to think I’ve cracked” Harry scoffed, shaking his head at the idea, recalling his torment at the quill of Rita Skeeter.

“Nonetheless, I nor anyone on this property are particularly qualified to help you with your mental problems. I’d also imagine you’d rather not share such things with me if your reaction from yesterday was anything to go by”

“No one should have seen that not just you Sir”

“All the same, at some point you will have to talk about what happened and deal with the fallout. I have known many wizards and witches that have let emotions get the better of them. The results are often unwelcome”

Harry looked to be ready to say something when a voice from out the window caught both of their ears. 

“Is that...Draco” harry began, turning his chair back around to see if he could spy the Slytherin, finding him crossing into the gardens, talking with his mother and father on either side of them

“Ah yes, I knew I was forgetting something” Severus muttered, trying to brace himself for the inevitable clash that the two would have

“They won’t” he began, looking back at Snape “You won’t tell-”

“Both Narcissa and Lucius respect your personal autonomy Harry, as do I. While I am sure they have braised him for the fact that you will be staying here for the next two weeks, I assure you they have not told him as to why”

Looking back out the window, Harry watched as the small family paused, Mr. Malfoy, speaking in hushed tones to his son. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what was being said, but when he tried to peer a bit closer the sharp gray eyes of Draco zeroed in on his own before the window was snapped shut by Snape.

“And I’d imagine they’d rather not have you spying on their conversations Potter. Not that you’d be capable of such feats, seeing how you were practically hanging out the window”

“He’ll figure it out if he hadn’t already figured it out”

“How would he figure out what happened to you” 

“We...had a conversation. At the end of the fourth year. Before I went back to the Dursely’s”

“Funny, I wasn’t made aware of a fight between you two at the end of term”

“Conversation” Harry swiftly interjected “Not a fight. I said something to him and if Draco is as smart as he thinks he is, he will have figured it out”

This was a curious development in the already curious life of Harry Potter.

“What did you tell him”  
\---------------------------- End of Fourth Year-------------

The door to the Tower snapped shut with a soft click, allowing Harry to let out the breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. Everything was too loud back downstairs. Every single student had been pestering him with questions. From the innocent ‘What will you do with your winnings’ to the pestering ‘Is You-Know-Who truly back’ Harry could feel his spine about to snap from the pressure people were placing on him for information. He had to escape. Thankfully in four years, he had yet to outgrow his Invisibility Cloak.

Said cloak was tossed onto a desk by the door as Harry strode into the disused classroom. The old room had once been used for Astronomy before the Professor had pitched a fit about needing a Tower that was a few degrees closer to Ursa Minor. The reason for his safe havens existence didn’t matter to Harry, all that mattered was the silence and peace it brought.

Even with it being in disuse, it was clear that the House Elves were keeping it clean. Nary a speck of dust of dirt marred a single surface. Even the, admittedly spectacular, brass telescope that rested beside the tower's windows was gleaming in the dying sun. With the way the tower was positioned, Harry had a view that stretched well beyond the bound of the lake, the orange sun starting to slowly dip below its surface. It had taken an errant gust of wind to draw Harry back to his senses, not even aware that he had been walking towards the open window.

Green eyes looked down, the soaring towering looming over the ground below. There was no telling how high up he was. Probably on par with where the Hungarian Horntail had chased him up to earlier that year. The boy shivered, recalling just how close he was to dying. A speck of him wondering would that have been so bad.

“I mean” Harry began, muttering to the expanse both before and below him “PErhaps Cedric wouldn’t have died. He was only there because of me”

Harry leaned closer to the railing of the window, watching as a flock of birds darted by

“Not to mention, Ron and Hermoine wouldn’t have to be in the crossfire of my life anymore”

There was just enough of a ledge outside of the window to stand on, just wide enough for his feet.

“And I wouldn’t let anyone down” one leg swung over, finding its footing solid “And everyone can go about their lives” he pulled himself over the edge, both feet now planted on the railing

“And no more Dursely’s. I’d...be free”

He could feel the force of gravity on his body, the errant push of an uncaring universe, begging him to jump. It would be easy. One fling and it would be all over

“No more questions. No more friends in danger. No more-”

“Not the best place to be doing that Potter”

“Draco” the last voice he thought he’d hear sent a rush of adrenal into his veins and his brain, his fight or flight response quickly switching over to the one with a heavier grasp of self-preservation. Shakily he began to return to the more stable side of the tower, not even thinking about when Draco extended a hand to help him steady himself. Even pride would be sacrificed in the name of safety.

“Not unless you want to be a ghost haunting this school. Then again, I’d imagine that would be a fitting end. The Wizarding World's savior, forever bound to his school”

“What do you want Malfoy, to mock me or did you come to push me off yourself”

“That would imply I knew you were up here, and contrary to popular belief, you don’t consume my thoughts that much”

“It wouldn’t have been the first time you’ve followed me”

The smirk from the Slytherin made Harry feel odd. Not uncomfortable, but something twinged within him he couldn’t place

“And as I said, you aren’t on my mind that much. You are merely in my space”

“Did your Death Eater of a Father buy you this tower? Perhaps as a gift in celebration for Voldemort's return”

That grin turned to a sour sneer quickly, leaving Harry feeling guilty

“I’d hush your mouth Potter. You know nothing of my Father, or where his allegiances now lie”

“I know he is a Death Eater who was among those that attacked the World Cup. He tried to get Buckbeak killed cause you fell after getting what you deserved to mind you. Also, he let my friend's sister get possessed by a journal owned by Voldemort himself. I’d say that paints and picture of where his allegiances are”

Draco’s knuckles cracked from the tension he was giving them, his hands curling into a fist. They were shaking in rage, one that Harry merely dismissed during his diatribe

“And yet, Potter” Draco spat, walking directly into the personal space of Harry “He is still out in the world. Almost as if someone doesn’t want him locked up for those crimes. Almost as if someone needed him out here as opposed to in Azkaban”

“What are you talking about”

“I’m talking about,” Draco began, drawing himself up to his full height “How the great and mighty Potter doesn’t know everything that happens in this world. Do you think Dumbledore would stop at just one spy”

The question, well more of a statement, left Harry feeling conflicted. Sure, it was common knowledge that, at least to Harry and his friends, that Snape was working both sides of the war. He had revealed as much of the past few years, but none of them had ever considered that there would be another.

“Wh-what about the World Cup? Your Father vanished right as the Death Eaters showed up. We all swore we saw him cursing people”

“Saving people, Potter. When you are as skilled with a wand as my Father, it is easy to fool a few Death Eaters that you are killing people. He saved people, which is a far cry better than you have done lately”

Draco felt the regret from those words hit him as they left his mouth. He had been so used to being quick and sharp with Harry, so ready to defend his father, that he didn’t even think about what he would say. One look at Harry spelled the pain his words had hit with,

“Potter I di-”

“Don’t lie to me Malfoy” the growl emanating from the throat of the Gryffindor lived up to the animals' sake of his house “You did mean it, so own it”

“I didn’t mean it like that I just wasn’t thinking”

“But you are right though. Your Father, if you are telling the truth, saved more people than I have this year. Hell, probably in my entire life. All I do is getting people killed” Harry was heaving now, lost in a whirlwind of his emotions, tumbling about as Draco could only watch it all happen

“Year after year, all I run the risk of doing is getting people killed. My Mum and Dad first. Ron nearly died helping me in the first year. Hermoine got turned to stone because of me. I almost get them eaten by a werewolf and now, I get Cedric killed”

Tears were starting to burn the side of his face, Harry unable to hold it all in, the sheer mass of his emotional toil bubbling to the surface

“I can’t take this anymore. I leave Hogwarts and I have to endure the wrath of my Uncle. The hate of my Mum’s sister. A cousin who enjoys beating me up just because. When I come back I run the risk of people getting killed, a Professor who honestly hates me, and to top it all of, you Draco. I have to deal with you and your words every single year. I can’t even try to end it all without you stepping in at the last second. Why didn't you le-OOF”

It is often the unexpected that can bring us back to reality. Something that is so out of the norm that it breaks whatever spell that life had cast over us. For Harry, it was the feeling of two arms around him. It was the weight of someone holding him that brought him back to reality. 

“Just. Shut up” Draco whispered, his arms not letting go of his school rival “Just shut up and don’t talk like that. Don’t ever talk like that”

“Wha- What do you care” Harry sniffed, unsure of what to do, unsure of just what he could do. Draco had him wrapped in an embrace that he couldn’t get out of. He was hard-pressed to tell if Draco was that strong, or if he was just too tired to do so. Or some third option he didn’t want to entertain.

“Because Potter. If you killed yourself, who else am I going to show up every year”

“You mean to tease, bully and mock”

“I only did that because you did it first”

Those words seemed to give Harry enough awareness to pull himself out of the hug, both young wizards looking at each other with unsure glances, walking away from the other slightly

“I...I never did anything of the sort. It’s all be you”

“You mean you don’t recall snubbing me in front of every first year that we have gone to school with”

“But...I…” Harry couldn’t even finish that statement, as the actions of him at eleven dawned over his mind for the first time in forever

“Yeah,” Draco fixed Harry with a stare, for once, not one filled with malice or antagonistic intent “That hurt. Do you know how long the other Slytherins didn’t let me live that down?”

“You insulted Ron, said he was the wrong sort to be around”

“And I wasn’t wrong. I know you don’t know a lot of the wizarding world, but it is built on influence and power. How much do you think the Weasley’ have”

“It still was wrong,” Harry rebutted, trying to find any way to stay centered in his ideals of right and wrong, though it was clear it was a losing battle “And the Weasleys are a great family. And great people”

“And that doesn't buy you much among the Wizarding community. Regardless Potter, we both said something stupid, but you did something far more insulting. You didn’t even take my hand”

Harry had no idea how the conversation had turned into their past. Hell, he had no idea how this conversation had gone from Draco shocking him with his arrival, yet here they both were. Harry knew he didn’t have a wealth of knowledge about the inner workings of the Wizarding World, but he knew Ron’s heart and the Weasleys as well. They were good people, shouldn't that make them good in the eyes of everyone else

“This world isn’t so black and white Potter, and I pity that no one has ever taught you that. I could have if you had taken my hand back then. I could have told you so much more than you would have ever known”

“Well, it seems that time has now gone and passed” the voice of the Boy Who Lived sounded, of all things, remorseful. 

“Only if you go and off yourself” Draco countered, before turning on his heels, “Look...I can’t pretend that everything I have ever done was justified because you snubbed my handshake. What I can say is that...I won’t continue it. I can’t say I know whatever it is you are going through Potter, but I can sympathize with it. If I ever did anything to make you feel...how you do, I am sorry”

“Was...was that an actual apology” Harry was gobsmacked, standing before Draco who was looking at the ground despite not facing Harry in the slightest “Did you just say sorry...to me”

“Don’t go making a big deal and blabbing it to everyone” Draco spat, turning to face Harry again “I don’t need you going about and running my image. Just be grateful and take the apology Potter”

“And if I don’t” the words felt...odd in his mouth and to his ears. For some reason what was supposed to come out as defiant came out...well he didn’t know. Daring? Teasing? It was hard to place the tone and emotions behind them

“Well then” Draco gave Harry a knowing smirk as if he was in on a secret that Harry didn’t have a clue about “Then I guess I’ll have to make sure you do. I’m not going to let you snub me again Potter. If my Father can make a change for the better, then I plan to do so as well. No better place to start than with you”

Harry just looked at Draco, his mind awash with conflict and confusion. Everything became even more confusing as Draco gave Harry a small wink before taking his leave

“Just be warned Potter, when I set my eyes on something I want, I don’t stop. So make sure you don’t do anything stupid between now and then” with those words left lingering in Harry’s ears, Draco took his leave.

Harry, still unsure of just what took place, turned his gaze back towards the window of the tower and its ledge beyond. Suddenly, he felt sick at the thought of going near there. Not from the thoughts of ending it, but the thought of, out of everything, letting Draco down? The feelings left him puzzled, even as he grabbed his cloak and made way for the exit, not having a reason to stick around.   
\-------------------------------------------------

“Probably too much” Harry finally answered Snape, as Draco, much like Snape, strode into the room, looking a bit more breathless than his GodFather had been.

“So, it is true then. Harry Potter has come to Malfoy Manor”

The call back was silly, but coming from the mouth of Draco, it sounded more regal in a way. Once more, Draco seemed to not be upset, something that caught Snape off-guard more than anything else. Instead, he seemed, somewhat pleased.

“Don’t dance for joy you ferret. It is only for two weeks, then I’ll be out of those pristine locks of yours ``Harry snapped back, though the words weren’t nearly as biting as they could or even should have been. 

“Just the same,” Draco continued, catching his breath and standing up to his full posture, “I still plan on making good on what I said at year’s end. And let me start by officially welcoming you to my Home Harry Potter”

As Draco took a bow, oozing every bit of prim and proper decorum his Mother had taught him, Harry tried to fight back the laughter. He was doing so well, but when Draco bent low, the dam burst forth, and Harry let out a mighty laugh,

“Oh,” he breathed out, holding his side with his undamaged arm as a spasm of pain struck him “I wish ‘Monie could see this”

“That wasn’t meant to be a joke, Potter. It is proper decorum for a Wizard’s equal to welcome their peer into their home. You need lessons in proper Wizarding etiquette”

Harry let out one last snort before heaving a sigh. It was amazing how seeing Draco, of all people, made his spirits lift ever so slightly. Maybe it was because he seemed to be hellbent on keeping his word about trying to do better. Though, perhaps there was another reason there, one Harry felt but was still trying to figure out, even if he wasn’t aware of it yet.

“Well then” Snape suddenly cut in, drawing the attention of both younger wizards who had forgotten he was even there “It seems I don’t have to fear a full-blown war between Slytherin and Gryffindor during the summer”

“I told Potter I was going to do better Sev, and a Malfoy is always true to his word”

“Yes,” Snape sighed,” Of that, I am painfully aware. For now, I have to escort Mister Potter to your Mother for his first round of therapy. If Potter so wishes, you can find him afterward. But not before you and I have a conversation” 

The subject of the conversation was clear to all three wizards in the room, though neither one of them drew attention to it. For starters, Harry was used to people talking about him without his knowledge, so being somewhat told in a roundabout way was nice. 

For Draco and Severus, both knew that this was a conversation that was going to happen regardless of what transpired between Harry and Draco at the end of the year. In the mind of Snape, he was shocked and a bit happy to boot. Perhaps having someone his age to converse with would help Harry mentally. Severus still had plans to find the boy a therapist of some sort, but perhaps Draco would provide a nice distraction

“Just promise me you won’t be so uncouth around my Mother, Potter. I’d hate to see what she’d do to you if knew how little you knew of Wizard Etiquette”

“Maybe you are just worried she’d like me more than you” Harry shot back, the smile the first real one Severus had seen in ages

“I’d take her liking you as a good sign for the future Potter, so you have no complaints there”

Severus shot his GodSon a look, watching as the blonde-haired wizard turned out of the room with another bow, earning another snicker from Harry. Perhaps he would also be talking to Draco about how flirting could have unintended consequences. Though, if Harry’s reactions were to go by, he was either totally obvious or playing hard to get. The first option seemed more likely, and that made Servus a bit more worried. Yes, that conversation needed to happen before Draco took after his Father with being too forward in his intentions and affections.

“That is enough laughter for now Potter. If you don’t mind, I think Narcissa is waiting for us both in the garden”

As Severus took hold of the wheelchair and began to push it out of the room, Harry looked back at the man, his green eyes shining ever so slightly

“Thank you...Sev”

“You...little brat” The Potion master hissed, pushing Harry out into the hall as the young man chuckled to himself. The two of them alone were trouble enough. He was dreading what his life would be if both of them were not only in the same room but not at each other's throat either.


	6. Being Ill sucks. being Ill back to back is even worse.

I know this isn't what any of you wanted to see when you saw an update to this story, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging. I have been sick back to back for a good two-half to three weeks. between a stomach flu, a cold, and a normal fluish symptoms, it has been...well not a good time to work on stories. I have done some writing on the next chapter, but not enough to have something ready. That being said, I think my most recent sickness is finally starting to break. As soon as I can go an entire day without being in a drugged out sick coma, chapters will be back up. once again, sorry about the delays and will be back with more good stuff soon.


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